Erin Rosario | Monday, November 5, 2012
As I lay sprawled on my futon for the third time in a day, making no attempt to do work, I can’t help but feel a little bit like a loser. Self-diagnosed with a sprinkle of “senioritis,” a smidge of laziness and a more concerning, stronger dose of overall apathy to my own life and its direction, I picture my mind as a small, eerie shack atop a steep hill. The lights are off, it’s freezing; my own Frankenstorm has commenced.
Maybe it’s typical of this time in life, with graduation so imminent, to feel so vehemently exhilarated and so overwhelmingly apprehensive. Instead of allowing myself to process any of that, though, for the past few months I’ve watched the lights in that shack flicker weakly, finally burning out.
What is this apathy I’ve been feeling? The disconnect not only to the world, but to people in it? Not returning calls, not finishing homework on time, not starting applications for things I truly do want. A dreary, self-pitying perma-cloud over my own melting brain. What’s changed?
I’ve begun to realize that the pursuit of excellence, happiness and efficacy is not some flowery, cartoon thought-bubble over a little girl in a jean jumper anymore. My dreams and desires sit just over the ledge of the infinity pool of my own childhood and security. Maybe it’s time to dip my toe into the ocean.
Maybe I’m more alive than I think. Creating bucket lists and actually doing them. Finally body-painting for a game. Endless conversation and spontaneity with the best of friends about matters of critical importance (memes oddly fitting to your own life) or the real hurts of growing up. Life is beautiful and truly a gift. And although sometimes I feel myself shrinking away, shirking responsibility and spiraling toward that futon again, I remember to turn the lights back on. Just like every one of you, I am special and I offer something lovely to this world. I’m finally starting to realize that I’m ready to do something. Nothing is going to stop me.
Pasquerilla East Hall